A Good Tidy-Up: The Missing Six Months: Chapter 8

“Now I’ve told Judith just what’s to be done, dear, so you just need to be a good girl, and sit nice and quietly while she makes you look really smart.”

Sophie glared at her mother. “I’m not seven, you know, Mum.”

“Yes, I know dear, but you never liked having your hair cut, always kicking up such a fuss, and it was even worse whenever I had Judith give you a shampoo and set. It’s almost as if you didn’t want to look smart.”

Sophie rolled her eyes. “That was a long time ago, can you stop going on about it?”

“If you say so, dear.”

She pushed open the salon door, and they made their way in. Sophie hesitated a moment on the threshold. This was where, as a teenager, she had endured so many unwanted haircuts, always back into the same plain, short layered cut that Mum insisted on. Judith would snip her hair cleanly up over her ears, trim the back neatly, cut her fringe halfway up her forehead, and then tell her how smart she looked, and how nice it was for her to have a sensible, short haircut that she didn’t need to fuss with.

Sophie would sit on the bus home with her mum, her short hair combed into a perfect side parting, wishing desperately that just for once, her hair would be long enough to ‘fuss with’.

Fast-forward ten years, and she’d experienced the long hair that her mother had never allowed her. She had loved the way it looked, but, even though she hated to admit it, her mother had been largely right; it had taken up far too much of her time, it had more often than not looked a mess, and her boss had made it clear that it wasn’t appropriate for a conservative and professional office environment.

She was now resigned to the fact that her long hair was gone, consigned to the kitchen floor a few months ago by her jubilant mother. Today was about accepting this, and showing her commitment, by asking her mother’s old-fashioned hairdresser to give her a short, no-nonsense haircut and then a traditional ladies’ shampoo and set. She took a deep breath and stepped into the salon.

The place didn’t seem to have changed since she was last in there. The same chequered vinyl floor, the same floral wallpaper and the same pink and chrome chairs, with everything looking just a little tattier and more run-down.

“Ah, the prodigal daughter returns!” Judith, a large woman with curly grey hair looked at Sophie disapprovingly. “I hope you’re not going to be as difficult about this as you always used to be.”

Mary raised an eyebrow. “Well, Sophie assures me that she’s all grown up now, and finally realises that she needs a proper haircut.”

Sophie glared at her mother, embarrassed. “Mum….”

“All right dear. Hang your jacket up and let Judith get you washed.”

Sophie did as she was told, and was soon sitting in Judith’s pink vinyl chair, her clumsy bob towel dried and combed straight down.

“Hmmm…. You actually did a decent job of this, Mary.” Judith commented. “Nice and straight, and I’m sure it kept it out of her eyes. It is a little bit childish, though, and you said she needs it over her ears for work?”

“Yes, they’ve got a strict dress code, and her boss is, quite rightly, making sure that all the girls are sticking to it. So off the collar, off her ears, and out of her face.”

“Very sensible.” Judith nodded. “So she needs a nice basic cut, like I give to a lot of my ladies who don’t want to fuss with their hair. Actually, it’s pretty much the style that I always used to do for her.”

“Yes, that’s just what I was thinking. A nice plain short layered cut, just like she used to have. I always thought she looked smart with a proper side parting.”

Judith flicked her comb through Sophie’s hair. “Yes, it wants to part on the side, I can certainly cut it so that it falls into the parting by itself.”

“I think that would be best for her, she needs something that she doesn’t have to do anything with.”

Sophie sighed inwardly. She had attempted to dissuade her mum from coming with her, knowing that she wouldn’t get a word in edgeways, but Mum wasn’t having any of it. She supposed that it was pretty inevitable that, having made an appointment with Judith, and involved her mum, she’d end up with the haircut she’d had as a teenager; the sensible, tidy cut she had always thought of as a girls’ version of a short back and sides.

“That’s fine.” Judith started to section Sophie’s hair, clipping the top part out of the way. “And you said she needs to have it set?”

“That’s right. She’s going to an engagement party tonight, and the mother of the groom wants all the girls looking presentable.”

“Hmmm. I remember this little madam always used to kick up quite a fuss when she had to have her hair curled. No tantrums today, I hope!”

Sophie fumed, embarrassed, as Judith cheerfully chopped away at her hair, returning her to her mother’s preferred short, neat layered cut. Sophie watched in the mirror, wide-eyed and still not quite able to believe what was happening, as her ears were uncovered and the bulk of her hair sent tumbling to the floor.

“There you are, all neat and tidy for the office. Is that OK for you Mary? Short enough?”

“Oh yes, that’s much better. Now for the set, I think we need to go formal, so tight curls, right off her face, and lots of lacquer please.”

“Well now it’s short, we don’t have much choice. Smart and formal is what she’ll be getting.”

Sophie swallowed. She knew that arguing was pointless. Judith and her mum would ignore her, and she’d just get even more frustrated. Anyway, she’d promised Sarah she’d have her hair set, and Judith was certainly going to make sure that she was smart enough to impress Mrs. Barlow. She clung on to the hope that a traditional, conservative shampoo and set would look better on her now than it had when she was a teenager.

Judith was well practised at her art, and in no time, Sophie was rolled, netted and sat under a hot dryer, breathing in the heavily scented extra-firm setting lotion that Judith swore by. She watched Judith and her mum happily gossiping away, unable to hear them over the dryer, and wondered just how prim and proper she was going to look when Judith was done with her.

 

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At least, Sophie thought, as Judith combed her out, she’d had the good sense not to argue when her mum had asked her to ‘dress nicely, please, dear’ that morning. She’d reluctantly swapped her jeans and t-shirt for the long pleated skirt and primly buttoned blouse her Mum had offered, and was now grateful that she had.

Whilst she had been desperately hoping not to meet anyone she knew on the way to Judith’s salon dressed so frumpily, her outfit was undoubtedly a better match to the style that Judith was putting the finishing touches to. Her tight curls had been gently teased out, leaving a style which was clearly the result of a traditional roller set. Sophie pictured herself with this hairstyle but still wearing her jeans, and could barely suppress her giggles.

Judith handed her a plastic face shield and picked up an enormous can of hairspray. She began coating Sophie’s hair thoroughly, making sure that every strand was saturated.

“We need to make sure she stays tidy until the party,” she remarked to Mary. “No, don’t get up, dear, you’ll need another coat in a minute.”

Sophie waited obediently until the first layer of spray had dried, then held her breath as the second layer was applied.

“Now don’t touch that until it’s dried, young lady.” Judith touched a couple of stray hairs back into place with the tail of her comb.

“So you said ‘formal’, Mary, hopefully we’ve got her smart enough for you.”

“Oh, yes, doesn’t she look lovely! Thank you so much, Judith. It’s such a long time since I saw her with her hair done properly.”

Judith removed the cape, and Sophie stood, slightly nervous to see her reflection in the full-length mirror. The sight almost took her breath away. Since Mum had chopped off her long hair, she had found herself frequently opting for long skirts and high necked blouses instead of the tight and revealing outfits she used to love. She thought that she had adjusted to looking plain and frumpy, but the thoroughly traditional and modest hairstyle she had been given had really transformed her; from an unpretentious, but still attractive young woman, to a prim and conservative lady. She felt as though she had aged ten years, and just hoped that this would be reversed when she could wash the set out.

 

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Sophie glanced nervously around her as they walked into The Royal Oak. Whilst she had reconciled herself to looking thoroughly matronly, at least until she could wash her hair, she wasn’t keen on meeting anyone she knew and the inevitable comments about her appearance.

Fortunately, she didn’t recognise anyone and as she looked around, she realised that since she’d last been here, the pub had clearly gone up-market. Most of the clientele were at least in their forties, and they were overwhelmingly smartly dressed. Men in jackets and ties, women in long skirts and dresses, and not a pair of jeans or trainers in sight.

She relaxed a little, and looking more carefully around her, realised that of the dozen or so ladies she could see, at least half had traditional shampoo and sets, and only one had hair hanging past her shoulders. With her primly set curls and wearing another of her mother’s Laura Ashley dresses, Sophie was fitting in very nicely, as long as she glossed over the fact that she was at least twenty years younger than anyone else!

She thoroughly enjoyed the meal, especially as she could tell how proud both her mum and dad were to see her looking so much like every parent’s idea of a grown up, respectable and dutiful daughter. She suddenly found it hard to believe she had been so attached to her long hair, short skirts and painted nails. How could she have been so vain, childish even?

She mused on this as they drove home, as she kept catching glimpses of her hair in the wing mirror. Whilst she couldn’t see herself wearing her hair like this every day, she had completely embraced the spirit of her transformation. She was actually really looking forward to presenting herself at work on Monday morning, nails trimmed, face scrubbed, and her smartly side parted hair firmly above her ears.

 

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Sophie stepped out of the taxi and nervously approached the imposing double doors. She’d never been to the golf club before, and felt a little daunted by the enormous gravel driveway and striking classical facade.

She could see now why Steve’s mum had insisted on a formal dress code, but it still felt strange to feel the skirt swirling around her ankles, and to know that the modest neckline of her dress made her look thoroughly prim and respectable. Dressing up had always used to mean putting on the shortest, tightest and most revealing outfit she could find.

She put a hand up to her lacquered curls, still not used to having her ears and neck exposed. She felt very self conscious, and just hoped that the other girls had all submitted to equally stiff and formal styles.

“Oh Sophie! Your hair looks lovely! It really suits you like that. Thank you so much for having it done.”

Sarah was clearly delighted to see her, and embraced her warmly. Sophie was relieved to see that Sarah, at least, had also spent the afternoon in the hairdressers, and her tightly set curls were, like Sophie’s, gleaming with lacquer.

“Thank you, Sarah. I have to say that I wasn’t looking forward to it, but I think it’s turned out OK. I took the plunge, and had the hairdresser cut it up properly short, over my ears, so Mum was really pleased, and hopefully Wendy should be too.”

“Oh well done! You’ll love having it short, it’s so much less fuss. Now, come and meet everyone.”

 

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“Hello dear, you must be Sophie. I’m Mrs. Stewart, Steven’s grandmother.”

“Oh, hello Mrs. Stewart. Sarah’s told me all about you.”

“And she’s also told me all about you, dear.” Gladys’ eyes twinkled. “That’s a lovely dress, Sophie. It’s so nice to see all you young ladies so nicely dressed. Properly covered up, not showing too much, if you know what I mean.”

Sophie smiled back at her. “Thank you Mrs. Stewart. It is a lovely dress. Sarah helped me choose it.”

“And your hair is lovely too, dear. Do you have it set very often? It seems to have gone out of fashion, which is such a shame.” She patted her own immaculate silver waves.

“Oh, er, no, I haven’t had it done like this for, er, well, for a very long time.”

“In fact,” she blurted out, “until quite recently I had it very long, and always just left it loose and, well, a bit messy, even though it drove my mother crazy. But then my boss put her foot down a few months ago, and I had to have it all cut off.” She pouted, sulkily, remembering the feeling as her mother took the scissors to her treasured locks.

Gladys looked severely at her. “I’ll never understand why you girls all want a mess of rat’s tails hanging down your back. Your boss was quite right to make you have it cut short. And I’m sure that your mother was delighted to have you looking neat and tidy again.”

“Yes, she was.” Sophie admitted. “And it was nice to see how happy it made her. Then when Sarah told me I needed to have it set for tonight, I asked Mum to take me to her hairdresser to have it done, and she was as pleased as anything.”

Sophie glanced around the room, taking in the fact that all the women she could see had their hair smartly and traditionally set, and realised how comfortable she felt, despite the unfamiliar surroundings. “It does feel quite special. And I’m actually quite enjoying looking really smart for once.”

“You’re learning, dear, and I’m sure it won’t just be for once. You’re going to love having your hair permed for the wedding. A proper, tight perm is just the thing to keep you girls looking neat and tidy.”

“Oh, er, thank you. But, er,”

“Now you must let me treat you to your first permanent, dear. I took Sarah, and Tina – that’s my granddaughter – to have theirs done, and they both looked so smart afterwards. Moira does such good perms.” She dug into her handbag and produced a small diary.

“Now I’m busy next weekend, dear, but shall we say a week on Saturday? I’ll get Moira to fit you in first thing, at 9 o’clock. It’s ‘Cut’n’Curl’, on Railway Terrace. The number 19 stops right outside.”

“Oh, um, that’s, er, very kind of you, but, er, I really don’t think that I could, er.”

“Nonsense dear. It’ll be my pleasure. I shall be most offended if you refuse.” She looked sternly at Sophie over the top of her glasses. Sophie wasn’t quite sure whether she was joking or not.

Sophie didn’t know what to do. She had been dithering for weeks now, over whether to appease Steve’s family, and allow herself to be given a short, tight poodle perm to fit in with the rest of the bridesmaids. She had thought that having her hair done for the party, short, neat and formally set, would have bought her some breathing space, but it seemed like, at least for Steve’s grandma, it had simply confirmed that she was going to toe the line and become a perfect little poodle.

Gladys, oblivious to Sophie’s inner turmoil, blithely carried on. “In any case, you really do need to get it done soon, so you have time to get used to it before the wedding.”

Sophie suddenly realised that there was only one way out of this. The longer it dragged on, the more stressed she was going to become, even without the inevitable extra pressure that she would be put under. She would just have to submit to having her hair permed.

A wave of relief swept over her as she realised that the decision was made, and she wasn’t going to go back on it. As she relaxed, it dawned on her that Mrs. Stewart had actually made things much easier for her. Most of her fears had been around having to find a suitable hairdresser, make an appointment, and actually ask to be given an old-fashioned tight poodle perm. But now, all she had to do was accept the offer graciously, and turn up at the appointed time. She was quite sure, from Sarah’s experience, that Mrs. Stewart would take complete charge, and she would simply be sent home from the salon looking like a sweet little poodle.

She brought herself back to reality to discover Gladys peering sharply at her.

“Well?”

Sophie took a deep breath. “Since you insist, I’d be delighted to accept your very kind offer.”

“Capital! Moira will have you looking as neat as a pin. Those rat’s tails you used to have will be a distant memory. Won’t that be lovely for you, dear?”

Sophie lowered her eyes, respectfully. “Yes Mrs. Stewart.”

 

 

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